Hope
by KiwiCantDance
Summary: Not my best, I see a ton of mistakes in it. Rated T because I don't think it deserves an M rating.


Jasper, after the attack on Bella at her birthday party.

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owner, Stephenie Meyer—not me.**

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"Jasper...it wasn't your fault."

Alice was standing in the doorway of our room, leaning on the frame of the door with her arms crossed while she stared off out the window. I, on the other hand was curled up in an emotionless ball against the wall.

"Bella knows it wasn't your fault, she even blames herself." She spoke softly, but the under-tone of voice hid a slight scoff. Her scoff contradicted her words, she knew it was my fault as well. Little white lies along the 'not your fault' variety were not going to make me feel any better. She was wasting her words on me right now.

Love, affection, worry, concern, and understanding feelings were emanating off of her, but there was something else too.

Accusation.

She knew I was to blame, I knew I was to blame, _God_ knows I was to blame. I tried to kill someone I thought of as my sister. If that isn't sick, then I don't know what is.

It was pathetic really. Edward - who I've felt the pull of lust he has to kill this girl - didn't react how I did. He jumped to save her - from me. Never in my life have I felt so ashamed to call myself Carlisle and Esme's son as I did now. I didn't deserve the concern Alice was throwing at me, I should have more control.

If everyone else can resist, why can't I?

I shook my head at her. She sighed and walked over to my stiff figure, I wasn't even _breathing_. Alice slid down the wall to sit next to me. I looked at her with pleading eyes, she was my one hope; my one reason for ever even beginning this diet - this vegetarianism as we liked to call it.

She looked into my eyes with such acuity, I felt as if she were looking into my very soul, or lack there of—as Edward believed. Alice told me that it would all be okay, that I would learn self-control, and one day I could be so resistant to the natural - but cruel - way of our kind as to even deliver babies without hesitance or strain.

And she didn't even have to open her mouth, her eyes told me so.

The depth of the love that lay behind her eyes was overwhelming. Those forever golden eyes, never again to be the color of blood. She was an amazing creature, I almost smiled.

Then she reached over, kissed my cheek tenderly, and got up to leave me be.

Though, not before she paused at the doorway. "She's already forgiven you, Jasper. I know that if it came to it, you would've stopped yourself. You're better than that, trust me," she paused for a moment, "I love you." She looked over her shoulder and shot me a cheeky grin. Her eyes lit up, her cheeks rose, and her teeth were blinding.

And then she was gone.

And the door was shut.

I slid up the wall using the palms of my hands, and pushed off gently from there. I needed to change clothes, I had a stain from last night's hunt, and it was a new day.

A new day calls for clean clothes; it was universal truth.

I clutched at the hem of my shirt with my hands and pulled it over my head. My hair sprung down, tangled and disheveled. I tossed the shirt at the base of the closet door, and walked over to find a new one.

While making my way toward Alice and I's closet, I passed by our full-length mirror and saw my reflection from the corner of my eye. I halted my steps and turned to look at myself head on.

The look on my face was that of hopelessness.

I was a monster.

I saw a monster.

My eyes were not a light honey color like they should have been, they were dark; like charcoal. My hair was - true to my word - disheveled. My face sported light hints of dirt on my right cheek and on my nose.

Then there was my chest, my arms - my whole torso.

Scars.

Scars that blatantly reminded me each time I looked at them that I had once lived a life of ruthless killing.

I co-commanded armies of vampires against other vampires. But it's what we fought over that was important, we fought for control. Land with more population meant more food, you could say. A constant struggle for _control_. That seven-letter word I never seemed to grasp. Control seems to be my flaw, my weakness, I've never seemed to hold in my hands. So, it was all about kill or be killed back then.

Even in my human life I knew nothing but 'kill or be killed'. I was a Major in the Confederate Army of the Civil War. It was always about strategy and critiquing it to the point that it was as flawless as it could ever be - like a diamond.

Not like how it is now, someone showed me this whole other way of life. A life where I could co-exist with humans, no matter how hard that may be sometimes. No matter how tantalizing the idea is.

In the mirror, I saw a man that could be compared to a recovering alcoholic. But in my case, my alcohol wasn't your average every day beer. It was like a fine wine. If animal blood was Vodka, human blood was aged-to-perfection wine.

At least from what I remembered, I've been true to my diet for quite some time. I only had almost-slip ups. Such as yesterday...

But no one but myself had such close encounters, it was, yes, it was pathetic. I just wanted my family to be proud of me for not having a close encounter such as. Not be proud of me that it was a close encounter rather than a complete encounter.

It was like saying "I'm proud of you for not killing her." When I almost did.

When I personally think it should be, "I'm proud it didn't even cross your mind."

But Alice always told me that I was making my way to that point, that one day I'll be there. I put my faith in her, that's all I could do. I wanted to be a man that could make his adoptive father, mother, and siblings proud. I wanted it more than anything.

Today, I didn't want to look at this man, with his crescent shaped scars, his dark hungry eyes, and his lifeless skin that held no pigment.

I was a vampire.

Not dead, nor alive.

This man - if you could even call him that, really - was shameful. He had let his family down, worst of all - though she'd never admit it - he let his wife down. He was a disgusting creature. He needed to learn control, like he had in the beginning.

He felt everything.

He felt the trembling fear of every animal, human, and even his own kind that he had slaughtered in his entire life.

He felt the doubt his family had of him and his loose _control_.

But he also felt their support and reassurance. It was something he held on to, to keep going.

Emotion described him in one word. He felt it, he lived it, he manipulated it.

I raised my hand up to trace a particular abrasion that resided where my shoulder and neck met. That was my first one, the one that meant more than any of the others. When Maria bit me, the scar that was left signaled the beginning of my era of feeling.

I raised my eyes to look at my face again. There was another new, recent marking on my left cheek.

I smiled, it was my hope.

I traced my fingers across the lip-shaped mark and sighed.

I may be the definition of monstrosity, but as long as I had my swivel of hope, I'd try my damned hardest to rid myself of that horrifying revelation. Hope being my family, friends, and over all—Alice.

Because this man in the mirror held amiable qualities as much as he did one's filled with shame. Since finding Alice, he had had a remarkable epiphany.

"Every life, every love, every action and feeling and thought has it's reason and significance: it's beginning, and the part it plays in the end. Nothing in any life, no matter how well or poorly lived, is wiser than failure or clearer than sorrow.

And in the tiny precious wisdom Thought and Feeling give to us, you'll realize that even those dreaded and hated enemies, Suffering and Failure, have their reason and right to be."

Looking into the face of the man I didn't want to be, I saw more than hopelessness, I saw love. The four letter word that said so much with so little. I was a sinner with a future, and a saint with a past.

"Alice!" I called out to the love of my life, un-life, existence, dontcarewhatgoeshere life.

She appeared in the room in no time. "Hum?" She looked confused, she _felt_ confused.

I grabbed her waist, pulled her close, and with every fiber of my being, I kissed her with as much love I could muster.

"I love you, too." I murmured.

She smiled against my lips, and wrapped her mouse arms around my neck.

"I'm over-sensitive..." I mumbled.

We were still kissing when she laughed against me, "Jasper, you're an empath." This time I smiled against her lips, and pulled her into my arms bridal style.

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**Kerblah, that would be the end. :)  
**


End file.
